A standard approach to style isn’t enough for women leading at the highest levels.
The stories that follow may feel familiar.
These women weren’t looking for more clothes.
They were done second-guessing what to wear when it mattered most.
CEO of a 500 Fortune Tech CompanyThe woman who stopped editing herself.
Maeve was already a powerful leader—sharp, decisive, and globally visible. Travel was constant, her schedule relentless. She loved clothes, but shopping felt inefficient. Getting dressed had become familiar and safe rather than intentional.
When I first stepped into her closet, the disconnect was immediate. Nothing was technically wrong, yet nothing reflected the level at which she was leading. The silhouettes didn’t honor her body. The colors didn’t support her presence. Most pieces belonged to an earlier chapter.
The item that revealed everything was a navy blazer, her professional comfort zone. Polished, appropriate, and invisible. It spoke the language of an associate, not a C-suite executive.
Hidden nearby was a green snakeskin bomber jacket she loved, worn only on date nights. It felt expressive, confident, unmistakably her, she believed, not appropriate for work.
This is something I see often in high-achieving women. We are never just one thing.
Maeve carried multiple identities. Her Texas roots drew her to classic Americana—western-inspired jackets, turquoise clasp belts. She admired Kate Middleton’s timeless elegance. And one day, she glanced at my Tory Burch black pumps and said, “I love those.”
My role wasn’t to ask her to choose. It was to integrate those identities and align them with the future she was building.
Her first real test came at a leadership retreat in Carmel. She was delivering a keynote, in promotion conversations, surrounded by national executives. Then she said, almost casually, “We’re also playing bocce ball… and I have no idea what to wear.”
That moment clarified everything. Maeve didn’t need more clothes. She needed a strategy.
Her first “risk” was wearing the pumps to the office. Not loud. Not performative. But unmistakable. People noticed immediately.
Then came the text: “Promotion is official.”
But the real transformation wasn’t the title.
On her first day in the new role, she didn’t ask her husband, a colleague, or even me what to wear. She trusted herself.
Today, getting dressed is effortless. Her style works across cultures, contexts, and demands. She no longer dresses for approval. She dresses with a Signature Style Brand that reflects her authority, identity, and leadership.
Partner at a Global Law FirmThe woman who stopped dressing to conform.
Mia was already a partner at a global law firm. Respected, accomplished, deeply trusted. She negotiated complex deals and led teams in rooms where precision and restraint mattered.
And yet, she had learned to dress carefully.
When I first met her at a women’s leadership event in New York, the room was filled with brilliant attorneys, almost all in navy, charcoal, and black. Mia stood out just slightly. Polished. Appropriate. Controlled.
Later, she told me why. “My body changed after two kids,” she said. “I don’t know what works anymore. So I play it safe.” Her wardrobe reflected that decision. Everything was correct. Nothing felt expressive. Most pieces had been chosen to blend in rather than stand apart.
During one of our sessions, I asked a familiar question: “Do you own anything meaningful from your heritage that you never wear?”
She returned with a brooch.
Not trendy. Not decorative. A piece passed through her family, worn sparingly, kept carefully. It was refined, detailed, unmistakably intentional, and completely absent from her professional life.
She believed leadership required neutrality. Seriousness. Restraint. So the brooch stayed tucked away, reserved for moments that felt safer.
That assumption was tested as she prepared for an important conference, days of meetings, dinners, and partner conversations where impressions would linger.
The question shifted. Not what’s appropriate? But what supports your authority?
We built her wardrobe around structure, clarity, and intention, and then anchored it with the brooch. Worn deliberately. Quietly powerful.
As she walked into those meetings, she felt something new. She wasn’t just showing up as a partner—she was carrying her family, her history, and her heritage with her.
The effect was immediate.
She didn’t look styled. She looked decisive. Later, she said something that stayed with me: “ I didn’t feel louder. I felt aligned with this new version of myself.”
The woman who learned to stand out without becoming someone else.
Creative Director, NaT'L AssoCiation
For most of her career, Natalie lived in Los Angeles. She was a freelance TV producer—creative, independent, and accustomed to working from instinct rather than rules.
Then, coming out of COVID, everything changed.
She stepped into a director-level creative role inside a large organization in Washington, D.C. Overnight, she found herself inside Corporate America. Long tables. Acronyms. PowerPoint decks. The role hadn’t existed before, yet she was expected to lead from day one.
On her first day, Natalie wore what had always worked: denim, a tailored jacket, a printed tee, loafers, and a beloved belt. In California, the look signaled experience and creativity. In D.C., it read differently.
She was being read before she spoke.
The question became immediate: how do you belong in a system you’ve never been part of without becoming someone else?
We began with a detail she already loved: a belt with a sculptural bird clasp. Unique, symbolic, and unapologetically expressive.
From there, we rebuilt her wardrobe. New options were introduced, such as skirts and dresses, alongside updated denim. The tees were replaced with pieces that carried more intention and weight. For her next major meeting, the bird belt remained.
When she looked in the mirror, she exhaled. It wasn’t a costume. It was alignment.
She walked into the room dressed differently, but unmistakably herself. They didn’t see “casual.” They saw a creative director with presence.
Natalie told me later that at first, it was a uniform. Then the clothes became my support. Then they became me.”
She didn’t disappear to belong. She became unmistakable.
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